Page 88 of Perfection

Chapter Twenty

Even with the bad news regarding the computer, Kindra pushed on. She downloaded what files she could to a spot comm: charts, information, histories—anything that might help her connect the dots.

It was past nine when York finally got Kindra to leave the crime lab. He understood her resistance. There was work to be done, yes, but she most likely hadn’t processed the changes in her life, even if they were not permanent. He’d lived that scenario. Only his situation hadn’t changed back.

When they left, she hadn’t wanted to go to the safe house so they ended up at his place.

“I don’t see why I can’t stay at my apartment,” she said as she made her way into his living room and sat on the sofa.

“You could, and I could stay there to protect you. But the killer has been there. We know that.”

She stiffened. “Killer? When you put it in those terms, it sounds so awful.”

He saw the fear in her eyes even though she appeared cavalier about what had happened.

“If he’s connected to creating and releasing the virus, as my gut tells me he is, then he killed Isabelle. But was she the target or collateral damage?” He went into the kitchen. “Do you have a preference for dinner?”

“I’m not very hungry.”

“You need to eat. How about a traditional Chicago deep-dish pizza?”

“That’s fine. I’ve never tried it.” She joined him in the kitchen and sat on a barstool at the counter.

“You’re kidding.”

She shook her head.

He gathered the ingredients from the fridge. “My great-great-grandfather owned a pizzeria. I keep the dough handy.” York shaped the dough, pushed it into a deep pan, and put the sauce, cheese, and meat on top. He popped it in the oven.

“What else do you like?” He really wanted to know more about her. And, honestly, he didn’t want to think about their suspect, about reality. He just wanted to unwind. They both needed it.

She lifted a shoulder. “Lots of things. As you know, I grew up in England. I guess I have an appreciation for old relics because of that.” She paused, and a hint of mischievous energy lit her eyes. “A little like you. I love old churches and buildings. We don’t have as much of that in the United States. They’ve built so many temporary buildings in the last two centuries out of sheet metal and pre-fab materials; little was meant to last. But I also enjoy modern, sleek buildings. I like eating ice cream and standing on rooftops, and music. I don’t care for cooking—cloned items are fine with me—but Brianna, she’s on some all-natural kick. I’m not sure where she got that from.” She swallowed.

He nodded, watching her. “Oh, sorry, I’ve been remiss. Would you like something to drink? Beer? Wine? I keep some vintage stock if you’d like to give it a try.”

She wet her lips. “Wine, please. Surprise me.”

He searched her eyes. Who was this woman and what had she done with the uptight scientist? “Coming right up.”

“Mmm. Smells delicious.”

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He headed to his serious drinking stash in the cellar, selecting a wine for her and beer for himself. The house seemed quiet as he went back upstairs, the silence more noticeable after having Brianna there recently. He was certain Kindra felt it and missed her child terribly.

As he entered the kitchen, she looked at him, her eyes holding his. He walked to her. With every step, his pulse increased, his heart thumping in his chest, making him feel alive. He didn’t think about the last time his body warmed as it did now, he didn’t compare GEI to Coder, he didn’t put distance between them. Instead, he moved closer, allowing the bond, the trust, and desire between them to build.

Her eyes swept down his body. His danced over hers.

No. She’s not for you,his brain whispered.But…

He showed her the wine bottle, presenting it so she could read the label. “A twenty-one-twelve Cabernet Sauvignon.”

“Oh my, that has to be expensive. No, please. It’s too much.” She placed her hand over his.

Her touch felt so good, his nerve endings tingled. “I’m a collector, remember? I’ve been doing it forever, and it’s not expensive when you buy at the right time.” He removed the cork, let the wine breathe while he tidied up, then poured her a glass. He held it out to her.

She lowered her lashes. Her head tilted, and after a beat of hesitation, she accepted the wine. Their fingers brushed, and her teeth nipped at her lower lip. Tension twisted in his gut and rose, tightening his throat. He flexed his jaw, watching her sip from the glass. He forced his gaze away and retrieved dishes from the cabinet, then set them on the counter. When he turned, she was even closer. All he had to do was reach out to touch her.